To Mrs. M. B. On Her Birthday

Oh be thou blest with all that Heav'n can send, Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend: Not with those Toys the female world admire, Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire. With added years if Life bring nothing new, But, like a Sieve, let ev'ry blessing thro', Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er, And all we gain, some sad Reflection more; Is that a Birth-Day? 'tis alas! too clear, 'Tis but the funeral of the former year. Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace. Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face. Let day improve on day, and year on year, Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear; Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy, In some soft Dream, or Extasy of joy, Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb, And wake to Raptures in a Life to come.